


Thicker Than Water

by wargoddess



Series: A Family Affair [8]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angsty Clawing, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Depression, Dubious Consent, First Time Topping, Incest, M/M, Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 00:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19030981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/pseuds/wargoddess
Summary: A month after "Transition," the strain between the brothers approaches the breaking point. Fortunately, they've got Nero.





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> Dubcon is never really dubious for these guys, since they're nearly always DTF, but the implication is there and I figure it's better to warn, for those who need it.

     Dante stood atop the roof of Devil May Cry beneath a heavy blood moon, contemplating endings.

     The step behind him was more politeness than accident, Dante knew.  The kid was almost totally silent when he moved now.  Nero had been changing in the months since he'd come to live at Devil May Cry, and with every passing day he was... less human, maybe.  Since he _wasn't_ human, that wasn't entirely a bad thing, but sometimes Dante missed the gormless, guileless young thug he'd found in Fortuna, who'd reminded him so much of himself... and of Vergil, too, in his well-earned arrogance.  Vergil, before everything had gone wrong.

     Wrong thought.  Dante sighed and turned to face Nero, in a worse mood than he had been a moment before, though he put on a smile.  "Hey, kid," he said.  "What's -- whoa."

     He leaned back a little and whistled appreciatively, because Nero had changed his look.  Gone was the ratty blue coat he'd worn for the past year or so, and the even rattier red sweater he'd worn underneath.  Now Nero was barechested and bare-armed, which made for a lovely view... and over this glory he wore a familiar sleeveless black coat.

     Nero ducked his eyes a little.  Still shy in spite of everything.  "Found it in the van," he said.  "Guess he had a spare, before..."

     Dante grimaced, too.  It still amused him that Vergil's "inner human" had been a poetry-spewing manchild, but there was also something kind of awful about the whole thing.  He'd _liked_ V.  "Yeah," he sighed.  That word covered a lot of territory, sometimes.

     "Yeah."  Then Nero scowled.  "Well, my old coat's toast, can you believe it?  Years of demon attacks, and it's fine.  One dumbass commando shoots me in the back, and suddenly my leather guy says he can't fix it.  My fucking life.  Hopefully I can get this dyed blue. Maybe with some red lacings, or... something."

     Dante walked around him, trying to figure out how he felt about the whole thing.  Nero was almost the polar opposite of V, belligerently upright in posture and with much broader shoulders; Dante could see where he'd had to loosen the back loops to make the coat fit.  The effect of this was to subtly emphasize the physical threat of him -- which was fitting, because Nero might be good with a gun and great with a sword, but his real specialty was up-close-and-personal beatdowns; kid was a damn genius at those.  He was right about the color being wrong for him, though.  Too much stark contrast between the white of his hair and the black of the leather, and he had no tattoos to mitigate the effect.  In blue, though, it would look amazing on him.

     But it had been Vergil's -- and in a way, the coat was a mark of Vergil's latest and greatest bout of folly.  Well, no.  Not the latest.  This thought alone was enough to make anger roil like curdled milk in Dante's belly.

     "He's gonna give you shit about it, you know," Dante said while he was behind Nero, trying to keep things light.  "'There you go, coveting my things again.'"  He could always do a credible imitation of Vergil.  It was easy; just let himself sound like a pompous asshole.

     Nero's head turned, just a little, to put his ear closer to Dante.  "You're still angry."

     Nero had also gotten better at reading them both, and bolder about poking holes in Dante's bullshit.  Dante sighed and turned instead to gaze up at the moon.  It hung fat and red over the city, like a portent of doom...  Though really, it always looked like that.  "I'm angry a lot, kid," he replied.  "That's what whiskey's for."

     Nero had turned to gaze at him while he maundered.  "Not gonna ask what set this off," he said, softly.  "Already asked Vergil and he didn't answer.  Fine; keep your secrets.  I don't really care, anyway.  But you've been shutting him out for a month, now."

     Dante shrugged.  He'd shut Vergil out for decades before.  "Not your problem to fix."

     " _Actually,_ " Nero said, his voice grating a little with suppressed emotion, "it kinda is.  I leave things to the two of you, and the world might end again."

     Dante winced, though that was true enough.  "Hey, the apocalypses aren't my fault.  I _fix_ things."

     "Yeah.  After Vergil breaks them.  I noticed."  Nero stepped closer, warming Dante's whole left side.  That was the presence of this young demon, scion to a noble underworld lineage; he would be great someday.  No, that was unfair.  Nero was great already.  He would be _fucking amazing_ someday.  Better than his shitstain of an uncle, or shitpile of a father.

     "He starts things and you finish them," Nero continued, watching him with an intensity that Dante probably should've found unnerving, though he didn't.  "You're stronger than him.  Both of you keep _pretending_ that you aren't, but you are; you've proven it again and again.  It's like everything else between the two of you:  you both bullshit that things are X, but they're really Y.  And when everything goes to hell and you don't have anything left _but_ X, you're both pissed about it and take it out on each other.  Again, and again, and _again_."

     Fucking amazing, but still a nosy, meddling bitch.  Dante sighed and rubbed his face.  "Maybe things are _complicated_ , Nero.  Maybe there's a whole lifetime of history, here, that you're never going to -- "

     "I love you," Nero said. 

     Dante started violently and stared at him.  It wasn't a romantic declaration, he saw at once.  The kid was glaring at him, and -- shit -- his eyes had begun to glow, just a little, brighter silver edged with a hint of gold.  He looked like he was going to kill someone.  Specifically, he looked like he was going to kill _Dante_. 

     Then Nero stepped closer, moving slowly, and in that instant it became almost impossible to look away from him.  It was the nature of powerful demons, after all; when in the fullness of their power, they made a weight upon the forces of nature, which drew others as inexorably as gravity.  Vergil did it like breathing.  Dante had to work _not_ to do it, lest he end up surrounded by hordes of human worshipers, or drive crowds to riot just by walking down the street.  But when had the kid learned to...?

     Nero's hand came around the back of his neck, and Dante did not remember seeing him lift it.

     "I love him, too," Nero continued.  His voice shook with that love.  A growling _threat_ of love that made Dante's fingers itch to form claws.  Nero's hand tightened, suddenly, gripping the back of Dante's jacket and shaking him once for emphasis.  "Both of you crazy, stupid, fucking assholes.  I told you I wouldn't let you fight each other to death.  I'm not going to let you do this, either -- tear each others' hearts out.  Chew on each other 'til there's nothing left _but_ the hate."

     Dante stared at him... and sighed.  He was old and tired, damn it.  And it hurt, to hear such determination in Nero's voice.  He didn't deserve Nero's passion.  Neither did Vergil.  They had him, though, and he _loved_ them, and he was going to break himself trying to hold something together that just wasn't meant to be.  That was an evil in itself, so Dante could only try to warn him off before he got hurt.

     "It's too late, kid," he said.  He couldn't meet Nero's eyes.  "I thought you could fix it, I really did, but..."

     Nero's fingers moved up to cup the back of his head, and Dante faltered silent in surprise.  All of a sudden, that touch... felt like Vergil's.  And in the instant that followed, Dante found himself overcome, quietly aching with loneliness.  _I miss you, you shit_ , he thought.  Which was foolishness.  Vergil was in Devil May Cry this very moment.  He'd been lurking about more than usual, and part of Dante -- the stupid, bruised version of him that kept falling on its face -- wanted to believe that this was a sign that Vergil was trying to do better.  The other part of him knew better.  Vergil stayed because Dante had forced him to stay.  Love under duress, even between fucked-up half demons who stabbed each other in lieu of handshakes, could not be trusted.

     But then.  Then, ah gods and demons... then Nero leaned very close to Dante's ear and breathed, "Hunt him with me."

     What.

     Dante started.  Nero pulled back to smile -- a slight, fierce, feral smile.  Not Vergil's smile at all.  Nero was very much his own monster.

     And that smile stirred... something, in Dante.  Something that was not despair or anger, for the first time in weeks.  Nero's smile widened, flashing teeth, as he sensed the shift of Dante's mood.  His fingers pulled Dante forward until their foreheads touched.  His skin was hot, and growing hotter. 

     "Demons don't talk out their problems," he murmured.  "I get that, now.  But I don't want to fight you again, and I can't let you fight each other."  He put a hand on Dante's chest and slid it down, slowly.  Dante watched him, wondering if he was being seduced, wondering if he should allow that, wondering why he _didn't_ want that because Nero smelled of health and readiness and demons weren't supposed to be picky --  And then Nero licked his lips with a tongue that was just a little longer than it should be.  The demon in Dante awakened at once, stirred out of quiescence by the lure of another's lust.

     "He has such nice skin," Nero said softly.  "Doesn't he?"

     Dante did not want Nero.  He wanted --

     "Yeah," Dante said, with two voices.  Oh, yeah.  "Careful, though.  No breaking."  He did not mean Vergil's sweet, unblemished skin.

     "I'm, uh.  Not great at careful."  Nero ducked his eyes, unashamed to admit his shortcomings.  The demon in Dante admired the strength that it took him to do so.  The human in Dante grinned in delight; little shit was actually trying to manipulate him.  That it was transparent as glass didn't mean it wasn't working, however.

     Dante reached up and gripped the back of his head in turn.  "Neither am I," he said, "but I think we can figure something out between us.  Let's go."

     Nero grinned -- and vanished in a silent blur. 

     Dante tilted back his head and sucked in a long breath of the night air.  The scents of the city.  A bit of autumn crispness, turning leaves, woodsmoke.  And, very faintly, a whiff of leather and sword-oil, with just the merest hint of sulfur.  His brother.

     No room for angst or sorrow in the hunt.  So clever of the boy to remind him that -- for a while at least -- demon delight was more than enough to blot out humanish despair.  It was good to feel good again. 

     Then Dante bared his teeth, growled out a laugh, and blurred into motion as well.

     Inside, Devil May Cry was quieter than usual.  Dante had not been in the mood for music for weeks, and Nero confined his to the van, where he'd been working with Nico on most days.  The lights were on -- Nero brought in money more regularly than Dante ever had -- but since Dante only bought cheap bulbs, they did little to chase shadows from the long, wood-lined corridors.  Dante moved from one shadow to the next, following Nero's trail until they approached the library.  Then he broke off, sensing Nero's strategy.

     That Devil May Cry even had a library was a constant source of amusement to Nero, Trish, Lady, and pretty much everyone Dante knew.  It would've irritated him, if he'd cared.  Just because he didn't go around quoting poetry didn't mean he was an idiot -- and in any case, first chance he'd gotten, he'd rescued what he could of Sparda's library from the ruins of the mansion where they'd grown up.  Two thousand years' worth of books, many of them not just rare but one-of-a-kind, and he'd had to put them somewhere.  No reason not to read them while he was at it.

     Vergil had not laughed when he'd found the library, Dante remembered.

     And Vergil was there now, stretched out on one of the wide backless couches that Dante had installed some years back, since he tended to fall asleep while reading and the floor made his joints ache.  Several stacks of books -- already read, apparently -- surrounded the couch, and Vergil had propped himself on one elbow against the end bolster, with a collection by Le Guin open in one hand.  His boots were off, set neatly at the foot of the couch.  His coat was draped over a nearby ladder.  He looked relaxed, and oblivious.

     Bullshit.  But Nero knew it, too, so Dante ghosted along the rafters, careful not to stir the wind or disturb the cobwebs, and waited.

     Sure enough, after a moment Vergil -- not looking up from his book, said, "Not bad.  I almost didn't notice you."

     Nero strolled out of the dark between two wheeled stacks, and Dante smiled as Vergil's eyes came up.  The power did not ride Nero quite so overtly as it had on the roof.  He'd wrapped it closer about himself for the hunt, muting the effect, but some things were undeniable.

     "Thanks," Nero drawled.  Dante licked his lips at the sight.  His own monster indeed, but Nero's smile right now was Vergil at his most wicked.  "I've been working on it."

     Vergil considered him for a moment.  "You should have that dyed," he said, nodding at Nero's coat.  "The black is too much for you."

     "Oh, I don't know."  Nero spread his hands in a shrug.  "Maybe I like biting off more than I can chew."

     It was as subtle as a brick, but it worked; Vergil made an amused sound and closed the book, at last.  "Do you, now.  I get the distinct feeling you want something, Nero, and you seem unusually motivated about getting it, today.  Are you practicing asking for sex, again?"

     Nero laughed despite himself, face reddening just a little as he stopped at the foot of the couch.  He looked young and hungry and shockingly innocent for someone who liked sucking cock as much as he did, and Vergil was wholly fixated on him.  That little blush had done it, Dante noted with amusement.  Vergil's hunting instincts were honed fine as glass, and Nero was acting just enough like prey to trigger every one of them. 

     "Yeah," Nero said.  He had begun to shrug off the coat, holding Vergil's gaze as he did so.  "How's this?  I want you, Father."

     Vergil did not answer for a moment.  Either he was savoring the sight -- Dante certainly was -- or he'd been thrown by that casual, rare _Father_ from Nero.  Either way, Vergil shifted and sat up, putting his book aside.  Perfect.  Dante slid into motion.

     "So demanding," Vergil said softly, his voice gone deeper with desire.  Then he lifted a hand to Nero.  "Come, then.  We should start by training that mouth of yours to do a better job of keeping quiet.  When you were supposedly stalking me, I heard you breathing."

     Nero grinned.  He had seen Dante moving in for the kill, though he held Vergil's gaze.  "Yeah?  Maybe that's 'cause I wanted you to."

     In an instant, Dante was behind him, arms locking 'round Vergil's shoulders, jackknifing them back so that now he sat against the bolster and Vergil was caught against him.  Nero had blurred to catch Vergil's legs, but that was hardly necessary; Dante had already wrapped his legs around Vergil from behind, pinning his thighs down.  Then, too, Dante noted, Vergil did not react beyond his initial start of surprise.  They could never have held him like this if he hadn't decided to stay caught -- and by the way he inhaled and murmured, "Dante?" Dante knew why.  They had not touched in weeks, barely even spoken.

     Dante bared teeth at him in something less than a smile.  "Hey, Verg.  Missed me, huh?"

     Vergil's expression went unreadable.  "I wasn't expecting you to use Nero as bait," he said, either deliberately misconstruing what Dante had said or choosing not to acknowledge its other meaning. 

     Dante chuckled, shifting his grip so that he could keep Vergil secure, but more comfortably.  Now he could touch the prize they'd just landed.  "It was Nero's idea, actually."

     Vergil lifted an eyebrow at Nero.  " _Very_ good, then.  You distracted me perfectly.  I really must stop underestimating you."

     Nero grinned up at him, all teeth.  The successful hunt had him on the edge, Dante saw; he was breathing hard, shaking with eagerness, flickering a little as his shape refused to settle into a stable state.  _Mood_ , Dante thought, shifting his crotch a little to let Vergil know what was on his mind.  In case Vergil had turned into a blithering idiot in the last few minutes.  Vergil tensed a little more, but did not otherwise react. 

     "Knew I couldn't take you alone," Nero said.  He crawled closer on the couch, now sliding hands up Vergil's legs.  "You going to fight us?"

     Vergil smiled with half his mouth, though Dante saw anger lurking underneath his calm.  Never a fan of helplessness, his big brother.  "If you're boring.  Then I'll have to teach you both how it's really done."

     Nero had gotten between Vergil's legs, sliding his hands appreciatively up Vergil's inner thighs.  His eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the sincerity of Vergil's threat, but then he got a hold of himself.  "I was kind of hoping you would fight," he said.  "Exciting.  But."  There was a sudden flash of claws and the peculiar light of Nero's spectral wings.  An instant later, Vergil's pants fell away in shreds.  Vergil growled in irritation, and Dante nearly laughed.  _Oh, kid, you **better** do a good job now.  He liked those pants._  Vergil had always been precious about shit like that.

     Nero sighed in pleasure as his prize was revealed, and for a moment Dante felt his own breath catch at the look on the boy's face.  "But now I'm _motivated_ ," he continued, and lunged.  The way he champed down on Vergil's dick, Dante half expected him to lift his head, chew, and swallow.  That would've been distinctly un-sexy, even for part-demons who grew things back.  But by the way Vergil hissed and tensed -- in something that was definitely not pain -- Nero was deep in a whole other kind of devouring.

     As much as Dante enjoyed observing Nero's technique, because the boy could do things with his tongue that Dante hadn't realized were possible in human form, he had more important matters to attend.  He began by unbuttoning the stiff cloth of Vergil's vest.  He'd never known what it was made of, but it was more than mere cloth; he'd seen it repel elemental attacks and the occasional ill-luck curse.  "I'll be a little more careful," he told Vergil.  "I'm not impatient like the kid.  More fun to take my time unwrapping my presents."

     Vergil shifted a little, and Dante immediately locked down his legs and arms.  But he only grunted acknowledgement of Dante, though it was strained.  Dante could relate.  Nero had settled in between Vergil's legs, one arm hooked under a pinned thigh, and he was already lost in lust, eyes shut and magnificent tongue doing the work.  Dante knew he should probably get Nero's attention, remind the kid that complacency and Vergil were never good words to have in the same sentence, but then he finally chuckled and decided to let Nero have his head.  He snorted a little at his own joke.

     Then he got Vergil's vest open, and inhaled a little.  Vergil didn't do casual nudity.  Every glimpse of the lean, impossibly perfect expanse of his body was a treasure to be savored.  "You _do_ have nice skin," Dante said, smoothing a hand down one pectoral.  He paused to circle a nipple with his pinky, and Vergil shifted again.  Yeah.  That was Vergil trying not to get turned on, and getting turned on.  "Always were better about dodging, than me.  Always quick to run."

     He heard Vergil's intake of breath -- not from pleasure this time -- and smiled.  His face ached from smiling.  His hand, on Vergil's chest, kept stroking, but the fingertips pressed in harder, leaving white lines in the flesh as they passed.  Nero had moved down, out of sight, pushing up Vergil's legs to continue his greedy repast, and Dante saw Vergil arch with the contrast.  Angry, threatening pressure above.  Eager, coaxing pressure below.  Of such contradictions are demonic libidos stoked to incandescence. 

     That, and pain.  Dante kissed Vergil's temple, hard, and hugged him a little, before leaning close to whisper words that only Vergil would hear.  "Nero says I'm being too hard on you.  That I'm too angry -- oh, and he's right about that, Vergil.  So right.  But he doesn't know you like I do."

     Nero sat up, licking his lips and gazing down at his father for a long, thoughtful moment.  Then he bent again to reclaim Vergil's cock, with loud and slurping thoroughness.  Dante felt Nero shift aside a little, reaching under Vergil, working one hand in gentle, rhythmic movements.  Vergil snarled softly at something Nero was doing, but then settled, and Dante saw that his eyes had glazed a little.

     Dante licked his lips too, and summoned his claws.  Now Vergil hissed as Dante drew an artful filigree down the center of his chest.  Like painting on a canvas.  The runnels of Vergil's blood, as they trailed away down his body, made Dante shiver; he wanted to lick them.  Later, perhaps.

     And into Vergil's ear, he breathed his own pain.  "Do you know what it was like, after the last time I lost you to your stupid pride?  I _cried_ for you.  I mourned you for _years_." 

     Vergil's breath caught.  He turned his head a little to stare at Dante.  Dante ignored this.  He ignored Nero, who had moved up Vergil's body to lick at the lines of blood running down his belly, stealing Dante's due.  Dante would just have to take more, he decided, and stopped his hand.  Now the filigree developed larger, more decorative indentations, as Dante sank his claws deeper. 

     "And you know the really shitty thing?"  Deeper.  His claws pressed harder into Vergil's sternum.  He liked the sensation of sinking into bone and marrow, and the promise of taking the heart that beat fast just underneath.  Vergil made a strained sound, and it was impossible to tell why -- the pain, or Nero's steady, careful fucking.  That was right; Vergil probably hadn't done that in a while.  _Make it good for him_ , Dante thought, and kissed Vergil's ear on impulse.  He wanted to bite the ear off. 

     "The really shitty thing is, I would have joined you, back then.  If you'd only asked me, instead of being a shit about it?  I would've done _anything_ for you."

     Vergil gasped sharply, the sound overlaid by the sharper, louder crack of bone. 

     Then Nero's hand clasped Dante's wrist.  Dante blinked, momentarily disoriented.  He focused on the hand, then Nero's face, which was sweaty and furious.  "Enough," Nero growled.  "No breaking, remember? For fuck's sake, Dante."

     Dante did not know the demon in him was awake until it snarled through his mouth and blazed through his eyes and bared its teeth at this presumptuous, upstart _child_ , who had never known loneliness in his _life_.

     And an instant later that child whipped a spectral clawed hand around Dante's throat, leaned close with eyes that blazed bright gold, and hissed right back at him.  But when Nero should have, stupidly or not, claimed ownership of Vergil -- which probably would've made Dante throw Vergil aside and attack him, because Dante wanted to kill _something_ right now and Nero would do -- Nero instead growled, "Yours."

     Dante blinked.  He was pretty sure it was his demon, which wasn't much given to thinking, that thought, _What?_

     "Yours," Nero said, softer.  Dante's hand had stopped digging at Vergil's chest.  Gently, Nero pulled his hand away.  There was no gentleness in his eyes, however, as he glared Dante down.  "He's _yours_ , goddamn it.  How many times are you gonna forget that?"

     It made no sense whatsoever in demon terms.  But Dante felt the demon withdraw, mostly because Nero had confused the stupid thing into submission.

     And just when he'd begin to recover from that, he heard Vergil murmur, just for him:  "I'm sorry."

     Dante started and stared down at him.  Vergil watched him through sweaty, lank, blood-flecked hair, still panting as the wound finally healed.  But he had not stuttered, and Dante had not misheard.

     Vergil had never, _ever_ , apologized to him.

     Nero pressed his face against Vergil's chest for a moment as if praying for strength.  More likely he was getting his own demon back under control after the abortive challenge to an older, more powerful demon; Dante watched his struggle with detached sympathy.  Then Nero growled and sat back, lifted Vergil's hips higher, and resumed.  Vergil groaned with this, turning away and shutting his eyes, unable to fight his reaction to the pleasure now that the pain was gone.  Kid wasn't doing a bad job of it, either, considering it was probably his first time on top.  Vergil probably wouldn't beat the shit out of him, now.  Probably.

     Dante stroked Vergil's chest again, once.  The shed blood smeared, but underneath, the skin had healed back to its usual unblemished perfection.  As it should be.  Beautiful Vergil. 

     Dante cupped his face with that bloody hand.  Vergil's eyes, hazy, pupils blown, fixed on him.  When Dante pulled, he obliged, and the positions were awkward, but the taste of his mouth was salty-metallic.  He had bitten his tongue to keep from crying out while Dante savaged him.  And then he had _apologized_.  Not to save himself pain, but simply because it was what he should've done in the first fucking place, and he'd finally decided to do what was right.  For Dante.

     For --

     Dante shuddered all over and pressed his forehead against Vergil's temple and kept his eyes shut as he held his brother tight.  To keep him secure, of course.  And he did not care that his throat and eyes ached.  He wasn't crying.  It was only the rain.

     But his thoughts focused when Vergil hissed and arched, and he lifted his head to behold Nero on the brink, teeth bared in a grin but face strained, hips beginning to falter in their rhythm.  Stupid, inexperienced kid.  It felt too good, and he was going to come too soon.  How he'd ever kept a girlfriend happy, Dante would never know.

     But that was fine.  Dante flowed around Vergil, batting Nero's hand away from Vergil's cock.  Nero hissed at him.  His demon really was a pissy thing, though that wasn't entirely surprising.  Dante just laughed and slid a hand up the boy's torso, nuzzling at his chin.  Sure enough, Nero quieted immediately and watched Dante for instructions, breath coming hard and fast as he kept at it.

     "Save some for me," Dante said.  Nero's eyes widened, bright with delight.  Then they both turned to smile down at their prey.

     Vergil was on the brink too, breathless, shaking a little.  He looked from one to the other of them, though, and a slow, hungry smile spread across his lips.  Yeah.  Perfect.

     So Dante leaned down and kissed him.  He kept at it, delving into that blood-sweetened mouth, listening to Vergil moan and loving his efforts to hold himself back, to respect the rules of the hunt, to submit when his whole nature demanded that he fight back and take what he wanted from them both.  But then Nero uttered a little broken groan, strained against Vergil for a few pent breaths, then cursed and sagged away.  Dante let go of Vergil's mouth long enough to shuck off his pants -- and God, it was glorious to see Vergil watching him and needing him and _waiting_ for him, with fingers fisted into the material of the couch in his struggle.  Then Dante straddled Vergil's hips.  Vergil's poor, lovely cock, so deliciously tormented and now just wet and neglected, pressed against Dante's ass.  Asking to come home, Dante thought giddily, and then he growled in raw pain-pleasure as he took his brother into himself.

     Somewhere in the blistering moments that followed, while Dante rode him and dragged fingers -- not clawed this time -- over Vergil's skin and hissed while Vergil's hands dug into his hips, Vergil lost control.  He sat up and grabbed Dante at hip and shoulder and fucked up into him wildly, almost desperately, looking up at Dante in openmouthed worship as he did so.  It was too much, and Dante writhed in Vergil's grip as his body bucked and he came, hissing through sharp teeth.  Then Dante cupped Vergil's face with shaking hands, this brother whom he had loved and lost and loved again and lost again and maybe, maybe, _finally_ , had won.  "Whose are you?" he whispered.  Just for Vergil.

     "Yours," Vergil groaned out at once.  His eyes fluttered shut, his body tight as wire, already unspooling into orgasm.  "God, Dante.  Yours.  I'm -- "

     And then he sobbed and pressed his face into Dante's chest, and Dante folded possessive arms around him until the tremors ceased.

     The hunt was done.  Vergil flopped back on the couch, insensible, and Dante curled himself 'round their prey, stroking him through the aftershocks, breathing in his sweat-soaked hair and chuckling in amusement as, amid his gasping delirium, Vergil fumbled a hand down to where Nero sat beside them, on the floor.  Nero made an exhausted, spent sound, but caught that flailing hand and held it, leaning his cheek against Vergil's arm.  They slept like that, Vergil in a completely dissolute sprawl, Nero in a flop, and it was left to Dante to curl like a dragon over them both, growling in contentment as he guarded his treasures against any who would dare to threaten them.

#

     Nero made breakfast, as was his habit.  Dante and Vergil didn't really need to eat, but they came downstairs and sat at the table anyway, out of politeness.  For Nero -- who sat back and plopped his big feet up on the table, grinning at them over his coffee.

     Vergil narrowed his eyes at this.  He abhorred poor table manners.  Nero didn't budge, however, so Dante snorted and poured Vergil more coffee.  "Smug little shit.  He's never going to let us live this down, you know."

     "Yes," Vergil said, with a long, dramatic sigh.  "My fault.  If I had been a better father, perhaps..."

     "Shut the fuck up, both of you," Nero snapped, though he was still grinning.  "Let me enjoy this.  Another dumbass family crisis averted.  You know, I probably even saved the world by doing it.  So I'm feeling amazing, thanks.  Also?  You're welcome."

     He got up then, leaving the dishes for one of them to deal with, and sauntered off into the bowels of Devil May Cry, whistling to himself.

     Vergil eyed Dante for a moment.  "He's right -- but he really _is_ insufferable.  We should put him in his place."

     "Yep."  Dante leaned back in his chair, rocking it on two legs as he gazed after Nero in contemplation.  The prey was young and wild this time, and more devious than it seemed.  But Dante was master of this place, and once again he had a powerful, wise brother at his side to help drive the prey.  Between them, he felt certain, they could bring Nero down a few pegs.

     Vergil dabbed at his lips with the napkin, draped it neatly over his empty plate, then got to his feet.  He, too, was looking down the corridor after Nero -- who'd stopped whistling as soon as he got out of sight, Dante noted.  Clever boy, probably running already.  Not that it would help.  "I'll get the dishes later," Vergil said absently. Already tracking Nero, of course.  "For now, brother...?"

     Dante grinned -- and then the chair was empty behind him, settling back onto four legs with a clatter.  He heard Vergil chuckle, then go silent, pacing him.  Then together they ghosted through light and shadow, for love and for blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. I'm really hoping that's it this time, because a) this actually took me several tries to write, until I realized it was Dante's story to tell; b) this story makes for a nice end to several character arcs, and c) it closes with the implication that all three of them will live happily (and violently) ever after. Point A usually means that the characters' voices aren't coming to me as clearly, which in turn suggests that my muse is finally running out of steam. But since my muse tends to treat premature declarations of being done as CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, I'm just going to leave it at that.
> 
> I really do think Nero would look awesome in V's coat, the color aside. He's probably got amazing deltoids. Why does he cover them up all the time? Boy needs to learn how to use his assets better.
> 
> Oh, and yes, yes, I know that the phrase the title is from -- "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb" -- is actually meant to suggest that *found* family, and ties built through shared effort and sacrifice, are more important than the accidental ties of blood kin. (If you didn't know, the original phrase is a summation of several Judaic/Christian/Islamic concepts that have been mangled by time, colonialism, and eugenics... but that's an essay for another time.) But since the family relationships in this series are completely twisted, yet still quintessentially loving, and these guys have had to put in a fuckton of work to make it all hang together, I think the concept still applies.
> 
> For what might have happened if Vergil hadn't been an ass and instead asked Dante to join him, see my much older series, "Alliance." (Alternate DMC3-era, pre-Nero.)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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